


Heaven

by hulksmashmouth



Series: Have Patience with Your Local Teens, They're Going Through a Lot [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Cuddling, Drabble, F/M, Nonsexual sharing a bed, Sharing a Bed, Sleeping Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 10:06:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15839040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hulksmashmouth/pseuds/hulksmashmouth
Summary: Peter contemplates his luck and ignores everything else for a while.





	Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> I just couldn't let this series go, even while starting a new job and trying to work on other things! 
> 
> This is based on the one-word prompt "heaven," which was sent to me on tumblr! I now also have an insanejournal account under this same username where I'll be cross-posting my shorter pieces there since I don't have access to Tumblr at work :D

The glow of a vaguely space-themed screensaver is the only source of light in Peter Parker’s bedroom. Darkness swallows the top bunk, as empty as the hole where a tooth used to be. MJ’s nice work blouse hangs from the safety rail to prevent wrinkling, but her jeans lay crumpled on the floor, a jagged and wearily incriminating trail toward the bottom bunk.

She smells like bergamot and rose hips, soft curls wafting up Peter’s nose as they doze under the pretense of watching a movie. Really, they both lost the plot around the same time rain started pattering softly against the window, but neither of them really minds. There’s plenty of time to watch it another day.

The weight of her laying across his chest isn’t even weight. It’s the  _opposite_  of weight, because he feels nothing but happy as he slides toward sleep with a hand on the small of her back, fingertips dipped lazily beneath the waistband of her underwear. May could burst in five minutes from now and freak out because they’ve all been happily pretending that MJ only sleeps in the top bunk when she stays over, but that's a distant worry for future-Peter to worry about.

It’s a nice farce, one based on trust and May not really knowing how to acknowledge Peter becoming somewhat sexually active without the risk of him hurling himself out the nearest window.

MJ takes a sharp, deep breath, her back rising dramatically as she presses closer to him. He tenses, ricocheting away from sleep to make sure she’s okay; they take turns having nightmares ever since Thanos. There’s no, like, spoken arrangement of schedules or anything, but it always seems like one of them has a bad dream only when the other is resting peacefully. His hand slides up her back to the space between her shoulders. The muscles are tensed, ready for flight. She holds her breath for a beat, two, three, shivers, then breathes out again. It’s neither a sigh nor a whimper. Something in between.

He waits for more. Listening to the rain on the window, he watches her face in the screensaver’s—the screen orangey gold instead of white ever since he let MJ talk him into installing some eye strain relief app—glow. Her eyelids flicker but in the normal way. His eyes linger from brow to lips to the sliver of an earlobe revealed between strands of falling hair. Peace settles back over her features.

His chest feels tight now, but it still has nothing to do with her weight resting on him. They haven’t talked about it, what happened when he was gone ( _dead_ , his mind whispers,  _you were dead, you were dead, dead, dead, dead_ ) but he knows that it weighs on her family the same way it weighs on him and May. That her parents and sister were gone. That she was left with no one. It makes him want to wrap her up in a blanket cocoon or, like, one of those bubble suits and never let her out, because the world is such a dangerous place and he now knows firsthand that he can’t always be there to protect her.

Not that she  _needs_  his protection. She would probably deck him if he ever implied as much.

Still. Still. His hand leaves the space between her shoulders to cradle the back of her head. She’s tough as nails, but her body is just as breakable as anyone else’s.

This, he knows with bone-deep certainty, is why he does… _everything_  he does. He’s super strong, he could so easily flick his wrist and just completely wreck her, but instead he holds her life in his hands and knows that it’s his duty, his  _responsibility_ , to protect it. To do everything he can to keep her and everyone else alive. That’s what heroes  _do_.

Even in sleep, MJ finds him ridiculous. She exhales through her teeth, a soft  _psh!_  of incredulity at how generous he’s getting with his estimation of himself. And she’s right, conscious or not. How weary he is of being a sidekick or backup to the senior Avengers, how eager to put his life and loved ones in danger for the sake of calling himself a  _real hero_. Soon he’ll be eighteen and legally obligated to unmask before the UN—and, by extension, the whole world. Revealing his identity, basically writing an open invitation for his worst enemies to go after the people he loves, and probably no small amount of unwanted attention at school. No more privacy is the price he’s willing to pay to keep being Spider-Man.

But are moments like this?

He breathes in the scent of MJ’s hair again, soothing and fragrant as a tea shop, as he closes his eyes again. If he grips her a little tighter she doesn’t notice, just cuddles closer until her head is firmly situated under his chin. He exhales and lets the rain patter interrupt the endless cycle of thoughts down the drain of his mind.

Maybe they’ll talk about it all tomorrow, but for now, he commits this moment to perfect memory. Every tickling brush of MJ’s curly hair against his skin, the mist of breath on his collarbone. The flutter of eyelashes on his neck. What a gift to see her like this, with her sword of words and shield of intellect lain at her feet. Not checking her every thought, not arming her tongue with barbs in preparation of some idiot's challenge. The strength and confidence of her, even in sleep. It’s better than anything he could have ever imagined he might get to have. It’s more than he deserves.

But that doesn’t mean he’ll give it up, either.


End file.
